There was once a hidden settlement known as Youma Village, also called the Beast Village.
It was said to be one of the most unexplored places in the world—a land blessed with gentle seasons, rich forests, and calm mountains. A place where spring seemed to linger forever.
That village no longer existed.
Twenty years ago, the Imperial Army erased it from the map.
Kumara remembered that day with painful clarity. The memory alone was enough to make her claws tremble with rage.
She had been powerless.
Her mother had died.
Her friends had died.
Her home had vanished.
Kumara's mother was a great youma—a being whose strength rivaled that of a Demon Lord. Yet she was gentle by nature, a woman who would never bare her fangs against humans. She believed coexistence was possible.
And she paid for that belief with her life.
The Empire justified its cruelty by invoking demons.
But that excuse was a lie.
Demons were demons.
Youma were youma.
And the so-called "Phantom King," a demon hostile to humanity, was something else entirely—neither one of the Ten Demon Lords nor connected to the Beast Village in any way.
None of it had anything to do with Youma Village.
But the Empire needed an example.
Something to terrify its people.
Something to prove its strength.
So the Beast Village was chosen as a sacrifice.
Its location—near the border between Clayman's former territory and the Eastern Empire—made it convenient. A hidden gateway lay between the mountains on the Jistav side and the forests claimed by the Empire. The land was fertile, the climate mild, the resources abundant.
Not paradise.
But home.
And that was enough.
Because Clayman and the Empire had once signed a secret non-aggression pact, the villagers believed they were safe.
That complacency killed them.
One day, without warning, imperial soldiers descended upon the village.
The warriors fought desperately.
They all died.
Kumara's mother—along with the nine previous heads of the village—fell that day.
She had strength, but she hated fighting. Against trained soldiers who lived for war, compassion was a weakness.
And among them was one man Kumara would never forget.
"…Kansas."
She spat the name like poison.
The bearded man with the twisted smile—the butcher who slaughtered her mother and her people.
As a "reward" to Clayman, Kansas presented Kumara—a living nine-headed child—as a trophy. The village's treasures were looted. Its existence erased.
To justify their crime, the Empire went further.
They murdered nearby merchants and residents, then spread rumors that Youma Village had been a dangerous nest of monsters. Fear took root.
The people praised the soldiers as heroes.
That lie was complete.
Ironically, it was Clayman himself who revealed the truth to Kumara.
He taught her something cruel.
The more hatred she felt toward humans, the stronger she would become as a youma. Her status as a monster would rise alongside her resentment.
Because she was valuable—a rare Nine-Headed Beast—Clayman kept her alive.
As a pet.
Her rage deepened.
Her power grew.
Exactly as he intended.
She was named one of Clayman's Five Fingers, the Thumb—a symbol of brute force and destruction.
Then fate shifted.
Kumara was taken in by Atem, Demon Lord of Eterna.
And everything changed.
Under Atem's rule, there was no manipulation, no false kindness. His presence was absolute—commanding, unyielding, yet fair. Where others ruled with fear or deception, Atem ruled with authority that demanded respect.
Through Eterna's children, Kumara remembered what happiness felt like.
Her wounds—emotional and spiritual—began to heal.
Until the past caught up with her.
"I will kill you," Kumara whispered into the silence of the labyrinth.
"I will tear you apart with everything I am."
She waited.
Colonel Kansas walked alone, utterly unshaken.
Being sent into an unknown place without support did not trouble him in the slightest.
Kansas was the embodiment of the Empire's meritocracy—a man who had risen through blood, fists, and results. Morality meant nothing to him. Only advancement mattered.
The destruction of Youma Village?
A necessary step.
Sacrifices were inevitable for peace, or so he told himself. He felt no guilt. Only satisfaction.
And he had the strength to back up his arrogance.
Had he pursued it, Kansas could have been ranked among the Empire's top hundred warriors. The only reason he wasn't was simple: he had no interest in becoming an Imperial Guardian.
His loyalty lay elsewhere.
With Major General Minits.
Minits was his superior, his benefactor, the man who recognized his worth and pulled him upward. Kansas believed in him completely.
His dream was simple—place Minits at the top of the military hierarchy and rule the army from beneath him.
This invasion was the perfect chance.
Calgurio's failure was obvious. Punishment was inevitable.
If Kansas could rescue stranded soldiers in the labyrinth and bind them to Minits through favors and debt, a new faction would be born.
Calgurio would become irrelevant.
"Political power alone," Kansas scoffed to himself, "will never be enough."
Unobserved, he laughed at his superiors and moved on.
After a full day, something felt wrong.
There were forests. Deserts. Vast floors stretching endlessly.
But no people.
No monsters.
Nothing.
The silence gnawed at him.
His danger sense screamed that this was deliberate.
"They're concentrating their forces," Kansas muttered, eyes sharp.
He was right.
"Hahaha! How generous of them," he laughed.
"Then I'll accept the invitation."
With reckless confidence, Kansas sprinted downward.
Each step sent him flying meters ahead. Wind screamed past him as he tore through the labyrinth, reaching staircases in moments.
Hours later—
A vast mansion stood before him.
Elegant. Heavy. Oppressive.
A place built not to welcome—but to judge.
The gates opened soundlessly.
And the moment Kansas crossed the threshold—
The battle began.
Kumara welcomed the intruder with a smile so beautiful—and so ghastly—that it made one's spine go cold.
"Welcome… welcome."
Colonel Kansas answered with an amused grin.
"Well, well. A familiar face. You're that little fox from back then, aren't you?"
"You remember me?" Kumara replied softly. "I'm honored."
"How could I forget?" Kansas chuckled. "Your mother helped me rise in rank."
The air cracked.
It was not imagination.
Their haki and killing intent collided, sparking like clashing blades.
"I can't believe you say that so casually!" Kumara snarled.
"Hahaha! I'm glad you survived," Kansas said lightly. "But don't forget—you lived only because I sold you to Clayman. You should be thanking me."
"I'll kill you."
Kumara's fury erupted.
A white blur burst forward.
Byakuren, the white monkey, leader among the Eight, descended with a roar. His staff tore through the air in a relentless storm aimed straight at Kansas.
"A youma survivor?" Kansas said calmly. "Then let me show you something amusing."
Without a chant. Without hesitation.
He summoned a beast.
A monkey cloaked in pitch-black fur.
Kumara froze.
"…You—"
Recognition struck like a blade.
"That's my mother's servant!"
Indeed.
One of the tailed beasts that had once served the Nine-Headed Queen.
"Well?" Kansas smiled cruelly. "Don't you miss him? Go on. Play."
The dark monkey screamed, eyes feral, memories erased. It lunged at Byakuren with savage strength.
"Have you forgotten me?!" Kumara cried.
No response.
The beast shrieked and overwhelmed Byakuren.
"It's useless," Kansas said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "He's my loyal servant now. He remembers nothing."
Smoke curled from his lips as he smiled.
"What did you do to him, you bastard?!"
"Oh?" Kansas tilted his head. "Do you think I did something?"
The mockery was deliberate.
Kumara's rage boiled over.
"Moon Rabbit Gett!
Black Rat Kokuso!
Come forth!"
Her tails shimmered and transformed.
Three against one.
The advantage shifted—briefly.
"Dark Rabbit. Dark Rat," Kansas said lazily.
Two more beasts emerged.
Kumara's eyes widened.
"H-how…?"
"Surprised? I am too," Kansas replied. "You can summon three already? Clayman trained you well."
But the truth was cruel.
Kansas' dark beasts were stronger.
And then—
"This is getting tedious."
He summoned more.
"A dark tiger… and a dark snake?!"
Five beasts.
All of them former guardians of Kumara's mother.
Once gentle.
Once loyal.
Now twisted into feral weapons.
Kansas smirked.
Even Kumara's mother had only commanded five.
A child should not have surpassed that.
"You're impressive," Kansas said arrogantly. "Serve me instead. Switch loyalties—from Demon Lord Atem of Eterna to me. I'll spare your life."
It was not a negotiation.
It was a verdict.
And it was a fatal mistake.
Kumara's smile deepened.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
"You're funny," she said. "You really worked hard to make me this angry, didn't you?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
All eight tails erupted.
Raikou, the Thunder Tiger.
Yoda, the Winged Serpent.
Mink, the Sleeping Sheep.
Enchou, the Flame Bird.
Igami, the Mirror Dog.
Eight beasts stood behind her.
"Eight…?!" Kansas stiffened.
For the first time, agitation flickered across his face.
Only for a moment.
"I'll admit it," he said, forcing a smile. "You surprised me. But I still hold the advantage."
"Shut up."
"How rude," Kansas laughed. "Then let's end this."
The battle began.
Eight against five.
Numbers favored Kumara—but experience favored Kansas.
The dark beasts were veterans of countless battles. Their magicules were dense. Their coordination flawless.
One by one, Kumara's beasts were pushed back.
Still, she did not panic.
She watched.
And she understood.
Kansas' beasts were strong—but obedient.
Which meant one thing.
Kill the commander.
And Kumara still had one card left.
"You've reached your limit," she said calmly.
"So what?" Kansas replied.
"I don't care how you control them," Kumara said. "Because all I have to do—"
She vanished.
In an instant, she appeared behind him, claws flashing toward his throat.
"—is kill you."
Kansas barely avoided it, laughing nervously.
"That was close. If I'd known you'd grow this dangerous, I should've killed you back then."
"Shut up!"
"Kukuku… Since you're angry, I'll show you something special."
His smile twisted.
He dismissed all dark beasts.
And summoned one.
The air collapsed.
A massive shadow took form.
Nine tails.
Five thick. Four slender.
"…Mother?"
A dark Nine-Headed Fox stood before her.
The Queen of Youma Village.
Her face—warped. Empty. Corrupted.
"Hahahahaha!" Kansas roared. "That's right. Your mother! I forced her to unleash the power she never dared to use. Beautiful, isn't it?"
Her mercy had been her weakness.
Now that restraint was gone.
"Do you mock the dead?" Kumara whispered.
"No," Kansas replied seriously. "I honor them by using them properly. You should thank me."
The dark Nine-Head looked at Kumara.
Not as a daughter.
As an enemy.
"Kill her," Kansas ordered.
The strike came instantly.
A unified blow that cleaved the battlefield apart.
"Yoda—! Igami—?!"
Two beasts were torn apart and returned to Kumara's tails, gravely wounded.
It was overwhelming.
Kansas laughed wildly.
"This is why I didn't need you! But you're better than your mother ever was. When I kill you, I'll surpass Demon Lords themselves!"
He charged.
Kumara stood still.
Then she exhaled.
"…If I lose my cool, I lose," she murmured. "I forgot Hinata-sama's lesson."
She raised her voice.
"Everyone. Come back."
The Eight returned to her, dissolving into light.
Her nine tails blazed like stars.
Kansas froze.
She clenched her claws.
"My name is Kumara."
"…What?"
"I am the Nine-Headed Kumara."
She moved.
The dark Nine-Head shattered—ripped apart with her bare hands.
"N—NO—!" Kansas screamed.
The corpse vanished.
Gone forever.
His greatest weapon—destroyed.
"You… monster…"
"I could've made you suffer," Kumara said calmly. "But that's not who I am."
Kansas tried to beg.
She did not listen.
"Farewell."
Nine shining slashes tore through him from every direction.
Kansas was erased.
Silence fell.
Kumara stood alone.
Her mother was not returned to life.
But her dignity was.
That was enough.
Youma Village was gone—but Eterna was her home now.
And under Atem, King of Games, nothing would ever take it from her again.
"I wanted everyone to have their revenge," Kumara whispered softly. "Please forgive me."
She smiled.
Not in hatred.
But in peace.